


Balloon of my Heart

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Holiday, M/M, None - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 08:34:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/796112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tired cop and an imaginative guppy = silliness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Balloon of my Heart

## Balloon of my Heart

by MJ

Not mine, darn it. No money, put them back, really I did.

* * *

Balloon of my Heart  
By MJ 

James Joseph Ellison was exhausted. Filthy. Bruised and scraped. 

He had been on an extended stakeout that ended in a long, long foot chase through the back alleys of the meanest part of Cascade. It took all his skill and most of his energy but he caught the perp, a flying tackle into a pile of garbage. With a barely audible, almost wheezing recitation of the Miranda, Jim cuffed the sleazy lowlife that had been selling stolen supplies from the Help Hands Food Bank and shoved him into the arms of Henri and Rafe. 

"Take him. You've got the collar. I do not want to see that creep again." 

Slowly, feeling every one of his 37 years and more, he limped back to his truck and spread the emergency blanket over the seat to keep the alley grunge on his clothes away from the upholstery Thanks to a gruff `don't show your face for 48 hours' from Captain Simon Banks, he headed home. 

No Sandburg of course, he was up in Seattle on some special project. He could have used a little Blair TLC just then. Jim sighed. A quick shower, a long drink of cold water and he pulled himself upstairs and into bed. 

Five hours later. 

Something nudged Jim's shoulder. A light tap coming from just behind his head. Another. Odd rubbery scent. He couldn't hear anything else. There was no heart beat at all in the loft. No sound of breathing, just that odd tapping. He raised his sleep mask and peered into the late afternoon gloom toward the railing at the top of his bed. 

**SHIT!**

With reflexes that had saved him many times, Jim rolled off the bed while grabbing his revolver and snapping off a shot into the horrible white and red face looming over him. With an unearthly squeal, the face collapsed to the left, disappearing over the railing. 

The big cop slid across the floor to the top of the stairs and peered down. Nothing. No one. Until another terrible white head rose right in front of him. He threw his hand up and - damn- dropped his gun. In shocked fascination he watched as it bounced down the stairs and winced as it fired, taking out the top three branches of Sandburg's beloved ficus, Ben. He was dead. He was so dead. 

Just as he groaned in embarrassment, the horrible white face moved in. And tapped him in the face. He grabbed the culprit around the - throat?- and smelled chocolate. 

What? 

Jim reached up and flicked the light switch, only to be confronted with a large translucent white balloon with a red heart inflated inside and a wrapped chocolate dangling from the string tied around the base of the balloon. Then he noticed the entire loft had balloons floating near the ceiling. Maybe two dozen of them. Each one had a wrapped chocolate on a string. 

As Jim stared, open mouth, at the flying chocolates, the loft door crashed open and Sandburg rolled in low, gun in hand and dove behind the kitchen island. "Cascade PD! Drop your weapon! Let's talk about this!" When there was no reply, he whispered urgently, "Jim! You ok, man?" 

"Why wouldn't I be, Sandburg?" 

"I heard shots, Jim! What we got?" 

Jim's face heated. "Nothing, it's nothing, Sandburg." He rose and started down the steps. "Except for this...this balloon invasion." He glared at his partner, gesturing toward the ceiling. "You know anything about this?" 

"Aw, Jim, how was I to know that you would be home this afternoon?" One hand on his hip and a frowning look to his Sentinel. "You promised me you would only be doing paper work so it was ok for me to go up to Seattle for a couple of days. Jim, you zoned, didn't you and Simon sent you home. Man, I can't let you out of my sight for a..." 

Jim had reached Blair and stood menacingly over him. "Stop trying to change topics. What. Is. All. This?" 

A blush and a shy smile. "Valentine present? Know how much you like Belgian chocolate and well, roses are so over done." 

Jim's glare softened into a sweet smile, his body language shifting out of black ops into teddy bear. 

"Hey, what happened to this one?" Blair picked up the deflated balloon sprawled on the floor. Poking his finger in the neat hole in the balloon, "Shit, Jim, did you shoot this?" 

Jim's turn to blush. "It startled me. Rising up like that, without warning. When I was asleep." 

A cheeky grin. "Well, I can see how that would be - ah - startling. But Jim, Jim, isn't Department protocol to incapacitate rather than kill? I don't know how you can explain this to IA when they investigate..." 

Jim grabbed him and put a hand over his mouth. "Shut up, Sandburg. You say anything about this and I get out those undercover photos at the next poker night. You know the ones, with the dress...and the makeup." 

Blair's protest was muffled by Jim's hand. 

"Do we understand each other, Chief?" 

A nod. 

Jim let him go. "Good." Looking up. "So how did you expect me to get the chocolate, floating away up there?" 

Blair backed up with a casual glance. "I knew you would find a way. But Jim, couldn't you wait for the helium to leak out. Did you have to shoot that one? " He was at the bottom of the stairs and picked up Jim's gun. "Are you sure you are all right? I mean..."holding up the gun, " it must have fought back pretty hard to get your gun away from you. Lucky it was a lousy shot, hnn?" Blair yelled as Jim charged after him up the stairs and onto the bed. 

An hour later. 

Blair snuggled into the warmth of his lover's chest, a finger idly rubbing over his chest. "You know, all this talk of war. Pretty scary. But I feel really safe knowing..." 

"Yah?" Jim murmured on the edge of falling asleep. 

"Knowing that you can keep me safe from terrorist balloons!" 

Jim came fully awake and swept his guppy into gales of laughter with a tickle assault. 

The end 

* * *

End Balloon of my Heart by MJ: marion2@cyberus.ca

Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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